Crimpology
by Adurna Skulblaka
Summary: Howard is meant to teach a group of teenagers on the history of crimping but, of course, Vince gets in the way and convinces his friend to do it in a much more interesting fashion. Poor Howard ends up helping Vince with the crazy stories the King of the Mods comes up with to explain each of their crimps. In typical Boosh style, they're not quite as normal as he would hope.
1. Introduction to Crimpology

**Author's note: I really couldn't resist. I'll still be concentrating on _Cross My Heart_ but... if I end up posting for this one more, I can only write for it as long as I have other crimps to work from.  
Enjoy.**

* * *

Howard Moon clears his throat and shuffles his ten page long speech into a neat pile in front of him. He turns his tiny shrew eyes onto the crowd of teenagers that stare up at him expectantly, waiting for him to begin. He clears his throat and, desperately holding off the effects of the Chokes, Howard shakily says, "I am here today to talk to you about the history of Crimpology.

"Crimping is a style of improvisational singing and chanting, using lyrics that have no meaning. When one crimps, there must be at least one other person w-"

His voice is drowned out by the music to _Future Sailors,_ one of his own songs, and lights that Howard didn't notice before flash across the stage, blinding the poor man. Confetti tumbles down through the air – the majority of it covering Howard, making him sparkle while he blinks rapidly in an attempt to see – and across the stage, creating an almost blizzard-like effect.

Howard isn't really surprised when he sees the culprit.

Vince Noir, the trendsetter of Camden, saunters onto the stage to the delighted cheers of the audience. Instead of helping his friend, Vince stands behind Howard's podium and leans towards the microphone. "Alright?"

If the cries of the crowd are anything to go by, yes, they definitely _are _alright.

Howard shakes his head and sends confetti fluttering through the air; then, glaring at Vince, he stalks over to the podium and attempts to move his friend out of the way. The King of the Mods gives Howard an annoyed look. "What're you doin'?"

"What am _I _doing? You're stealing my spotlight, Sir!"

"Give over, you idiot; you can't give a speech. You've got the Chokes!"

"I think you'll find they're gone now, so if you'll get out of the way-"

"For God's sake, _just talk_!"

Both men stop and look towards the back of the room; a short man in a blue robe stares back, his calm expression hiding the fact that it was him that just shouted. There's no way Howard and Vince could ever forget that familiar lisp, though, so it's easy to work out who it was.

Of course, the fact that the gorilla, Bollo, is stood next to Naboo is a dead giveaway.

"Look, I've got an idea," Vince whispers, covering the microphone with his hand. "We'll tell them about _our _crimps!"

"What use is that? They need the _history _of crimping, not-"

A loud grunt comes from Bollo's direction in warning.

"Ok, we'll go with it," Howard sighs. "But don't twist them and make it so you're the hero of every story! That's what always happens!"

Vince grins at Howard, looking deceptively innocent. "Don't worry. I'll be good."


	2. Stickleback Crimp

**Author's note:I'm feeling generous. And I also want to get the first actual crimp posted. I present to you my take on the story behind the Stickleback Crimp.**

* * *

_Stickleback,  
Stickleback,  
Stickleback,  
Bourgeois.  
Cursing in the bingo hall,  
Running like a china horse,  
Mmpta masala,  
Mmpta masala.  
Kentish town, Kentish town, yeah!  
Kentish town, Kentish town, no!_

* * *

The underwater bingo hall was filled with posh fish from all over the sea. They chattered amongst themselves, and occasionally drank tea and ate scones – somehow.

("This is ridiculous, Vince-"

"Just go with it, Howard!")

The bingo caller – who happened to look exactly like a certain person Howard and Vince had seen before, only in fish form – raised his fin, which had one of the bingo balls on the top. "Unprovoked killing spree," he said through the bubbles that billowed from his mouth, "number one-hundred-and-ninety-three!"

A certain fish, Mr Stickleback, crossed off another number on his card. He only needed one more, and then he would win the best prize ever: a year's supply of seaweed for his garden. It would become the most beautiful in the whole of the ocean! No other fish would be able to compare to its pure awesomeness. Not even the great Sammy the Crab… if he had an underwater garden. Who knew? He lived on dry land, acting all over the world. He didn't even live with the other fish.

("Vince…"  
"Sorry.")

Anyway, while Mr Stickleback was gazing into the distance at his mental image of the perfect garden, the last number was called. He almost missed it, and looked down at his card eagerly to find the number.

Only, it wasn't Mr Stickleback's number.

It was Miss Seahorse's.

"No!" Mr Stickleback cried, throwing himself onto the floor when Miss Seahorse whinnied 'Bingo!'. "Damn you, bad luck! Why couldn't I win just this once? Just for the beautiful garden?" Mr Stickleback gestured at Miss Seahorse, who was trotting daintily up to the bingo caller to collect her prize. "She won't even use it for its intended purpose! She'll _eat it_!"

Mr Stickleback simply decided it wasn't worth it anymore. He got to his fins and fled the bingo hall, forgetting his briefcase in the process, but that didn't matter anymore. How could a briefcase give him a wonderful garden? He hopped into his car and drove away, using one fin to turn on his Sat Nav. He put in the location 'Kentish Town' and left the fish city forever, just because of a game of bingo.

* * *

The room is silent.

Howard stares at Vince. "What the bloody hell was that?"

"The story behind the Stickleback crimp, obviously!"

"Maybe you should leave the next one to me, Sparkly Jim. That was utter rubbish. Since when do fish play bingo?"

Vince opens his mouth to insult Howard on the size of his eyes, when Naboo says rather loudly, "Bollo, would you mind teaching them-"

"There's no need for that, Naboo!" Howard interrupts hurriedly, waving his arms in the direction of the shaman. "Come on, Vince. Which crimp's next?"

"Calm A Llama Down," Vince replies immediately. "That shouldn't be too difficult for you. Course, I'll help you out. It won't be interesting if you do it all by yourself."

Howard sighs. "Fine, fine. Just be sensible this time. At least there aren't any fish in this one."

Vince laughs. "But there are llamas. They're just as good."

* * *

**Author's note: By the way, I got the bingo number from _The Mighty Book of Boosh_ :D I opened it at random, and that was the first number I saw.**


	3. Calm A Llama Down Crimp

**Author's note: And here we have the second crimp, Calm A Llama Down! **

* * *

_Calm a llama down  
Calm a llama deep down  
In the ocean blue  
Like a barnacle  
Sitting in the tight place  
Laughing at the monkey arm  
Pulling like a china boy  
Kadaway  
Kadaway  
Kadaway  
N__oise  
Boing chi kah masala  
Boing chi kah masala  
Ohhhhh tooth, tooth_

* * *

The Zooniverse's only llama was out _again_, and it wasn't exactly happy. Even Vince, otherwise known as Mowgli in Flairs, couldn't calm it down.

Howard stared down into the tank that held the Zooniverse's small collection of sea fish, searching for the missing llama. He heard a low bleat which was muffled by the water and, looking again, he finally saw it.

The creature was at the bottom of the tank, an incredibly long snorkel stuck in its mouth, which rose out of the water so it could breathe. It struggled against the seaweed that had tangled around its hooves, making sounds of terror as it kicked pathetically.

Howard was already in his porpoise jockey outfit, since he'd just been part of a race – which he'd lost again – and he was ready to go. He pulled his cap down, settled his goggles over his eyes, and dived into the tank.

Or, at least, he tried to. He ended up just tumbling into the water.

Vince watched from above, Bollo and Naboo on either side of him. The tiny shaman had to watch through the glass, because Vince had stolen the only stepladder, and Bollo was tall enough to see over anyway. Muttering a few choice words under his breath, Naboo peered through the murky water to try to find a trace of his friend.

Howard tugged on the seaweed knotted around the llama's ankles, but it wouldn't come undone. With a look of sorrow on his face, he tore the seaweed from the ground, allowing the llama to swim to the surface. It was the quickest and simplest way of freeing the llama. He kicked off from the pebbles and his head broke through the surface, and a hairy arm reached out towards him in a silent offer of help. The llama had long since escaped from the tank and cantered unsteadily back to its pen. Howard grabbed hold of Bollo's paw, but then froze.

Around his wrist was a bracelet. Most of it was made up of string through little wooden beads, but there was a long rectangular part with writing on it.

_Bollo, familiar of Naboo the Shaman._

Howard began to snigger.

"What's this, Naboo?" he asked.

"What's what?" the shaman replied, frowning in confusion. He couldn't see what Howard was looking at – _Curse my height,_ Naboo thought – so how could he know what 'this' was?

"This bracelet."

"It's like a collar for a pet cat, only it's for a shaman's familiar."

Vince and Howard burst into laughter. Bollo growled and hauled Howard out of the tank, only to let him fall to the floor. The gorilla grunted a half-hearted "Oops" afterwards. Naboo smiled a little; it was pretty funny, even to the usually emotionless shaman. "Well done, Bollo," he muttered. The smile disappeared, however, when Howard started howling in pain.

"What happened?" Vince demanded, crouching beside him.

The jazz maverick sat upright, covering his mouth with his hand. "My tooth," he groaned.

"… Oops," Bollo repeated.


	4. Soup Crimp

**Author's note: I'll be honest, I have no idea if that's how you spell 'gazpacho'. Word's spell checker had a bit of a tantrum over this crimp.  
Thank you to AntWarrior and xxquirpxx for favouriting, but thanks most of all to GrowlyNoir for reviewing all of the chapters so far and favouriting :D**

* * *

_Soup, soup  
A tasty soup, soup  
A spicy carrot and coriander  
Chilli chowder  
Crouton, crouton  
Crunchy friends in a liquid broth  
I am gazpacho  
Oh  
I am a summer soup  
Mmm  
Miso, miso  
Fighting in the dojo  
Miso, miso  
Oriental prince in the land of soup_

* * *

Prince Noir adjusted his golden cape and reclined in his throne, a smirk on his face. He raised a hand to gesture at the man sitting at the foot of his chair. "Moon, let in the shaman and his gorilla."

Moon, Prince Noir's slave, stood and bowed to the prince with a mutinous look on his face. "Of course…" He wore a simple toga, but his master was clothed with the finest silks and various pieces of jewelry. Moon walked to the opposite end of the massive hall that was the throne room, just to let in the two guests. They were an odd pair, but Prince Noir and Moon were used to their presence in the palace. They were regular visitors and, to Prince Noir's delight, they often brought gifts.

This time, the gorilla carried several pots in his hairy hands. Prince Noir leaned forwards eagerly as they approached, but the gorilla's companion, a short man with a turban on his head that was probably as big as said head, didn't explain what was inside them immediately. He exchanged greetings with the prince – which the young man returned grudgingly, because he knew he wouldn't be rewarded with his present if he didn't – and then Naboo the Enigma waved his hand. His familiar shuffled forwards and laid the pots on the floor, opening them one by one.

"We offer you soup," the shaman said. "We have brought you different types-"

"Genius!" Prince Noir interrupted. He clicked his fingers at Moon and added, "Bring them up!"

Muttering under his breath, Moon brought them up to his master one by one; Prince Noir tasted each one, nodding and smiling or making a face of disgust when it suited him. Moon was fed properly – Prince Noir wasn't horrible enough to starve him – but he desperately wanted to taste at least one of the soups. However, he knew that was unlikely, so he stayed silent.

But, much to his surprise, Prince Noir offered Moon one of the bowls. "Try some," he said, "it's amazing!"

Dutifully, Moon took the bowl from Prince Noir and placed a spoonful of it into his mouth...

... and promptly spat it out.

Prince Noir, Naboo the Enigma and Bollo all stared at Moon.

"What was that for?" Prince Noir demanded.

"It's disgusting, Sir!"

"No, it wasn't! It was delicious! You just wasted it!"

"It's a good thing I did! I've never tasted anything _less_ 'delicious' in my life!"

The shaman and gorilla watched the two throw comments back and forth with amused expressions, but when it became clear that they weren't going to stop for a while, Naboo tapped Bollo on the shoulder, and the pair left.

Neither Prince Noir nor Moon noticed.

* * *

Howard scowls when Vince finishes the story; in typical Vince Noir fashion, he'd made himself the better character and left his friend to serve his fictional self. It reminds Howard of their time on the planet Xooberon, when Vince had been mistaken for the Chosen One, and he'd had to be his slave. _Maybe that's where he got his inspiration from_, Howard muses.

"Pretty good, eh?" Vince asks, grinning.

Howard just stares.


	5. Pancake Crimp

**Author's note: Thanks very much to everyone who has supported this fic in some way :)**

* * *

_Eggs, milk and flour  
__Pancake power  
__Look at his milky yellow sunshine face  
F__lip it now, flip it good, ooh!  
__Flip it now, flip it good, ooh!  
__Summer salt  
__Summer sweet  
__Summer fruit  
__Summer meet  
__The time we used the chive, it really came alive!  
__Edible frisbees,  
__Springtime Tuesday  
__I like to boogie_

* * *

It was a hot summer's day at the Zooniverse, and Bob Fossil had decided to set up a party of some sort. Of course, the keepers would have to provide the food, music and decorations because he was't generous enough to buy them himself, but it was still a break.

Vince and Howard stood side by side in the tiny kitchen of their cabin, staring at the stove as if snacks would suddenly appear before them. When it was clear that that _wasn't_ going to happen, Howard went to inspect the fridge and cupboards, leaving his friend to wonder aloud about Fossil's music choices for the party. When the jazz maverick returned, he placed eggs, milk and flour on the counter and sighed, "That's all we've got. There's not much we can do with that."

"No…" Vince frowned, but then his face suddenly brightened. "Wait, Howard! Remember last week, when you cooked breakfast?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Pancakes!"

Howard looked baffled. Had Vince gone mad? What did pancakes have to do with their lack of party food? Vince rolled his eyes and added, "You can make pancakes to take to Fossil's party, genius."

"They're not exactly traditional-"

"Oh, forget traditional! Since when have we ever been _traditional_?" The King of the Mods gave his friend 'The Look', the one that _Howard_ usually directed at _Vince_. Maybe he just had a craving for pancakes. It certainly wouldn't surprise Howard.

"Alright then… are you gonna give me a hand?"

"No," Vince scoffed, "cooking is messy, and if I get anything on my clothes it'll ruin my look."

Howard took Vince's apron off of its hook – yes, he did have one, and yes, it was sparkly – and held it out towards him. "We haven't got much time before the party starts, Vince. You'll have to help me."

Sighing and moaning like a teenager, Vince donned his apron and watched Howard assemble the ingredients. He had no idea how to cook, let alone make pancakes… it was usually Howard or Naboo that did that.

As it turned out, Howard didn't actually need his help. He was perfectly capable of making a good pile of pancakes by himself. Vince was bored, so while Howard flipped a pancake, he sneakily grabbed the bag of flour and grinned at his friend's back. He stuck his hand in the bag and, without any warning, slapped a floury handprint on Howard's shoulder.

The jazz maverick only just managed to save the pancake, which he'd almost dropped when he'd been surprised by Vince's attack. He carefully added the pancake to the plate before turning to scowl at Vince. "What the hell do you think you're doing, sir?"

"Oh, nothing," Vince replied, looking innocent. "Jus' patting you on the shoulder is all…"

Howard didn't trust him, and he had good reason not to. He craned his neck to look at his shoulder and, sure enough, he saw the evidence. "Caught red handed, Vince."

His friend smirked and held up his hand, which was covered in a fresh layer of flour. "Or d'you mean 'white handed'?" He leaped forwards and landed another handprint on Howard's arm. He stole the bag away from Vince and retaliated by simply dropping a handful of flour on his friend's head.

A flour fight ensued, one that left them covered from head to toe in the stuff. Vince didn't even seem bothered by his ruined outfit, which was surprising; Howard had been preparing himself for a rant once the hype of the game wore off. However, they both agreed that they couldn't go to Fossil's party like that, so they simply decided not to go. They found some toppings for their pancakes and managed to eat them all, only leaving one or two for Naboo and Bollo. The pair of them drowned out the sound of the crappy music being played and Fossil's boasting by turning up their equally crappy TV.

In fact, it was probably a good thing that they missed the party.

Leroy probably would've set the barbecue on fire anyway. He always did.


	6. Four Way Crimp

**Author's note: Do you know how difficult it was to come up with a story for this crimp? Really... it's quite possibly the most random one there is.  
Once again, lyrics are from The Mighty Book of Boosh, so apologies if they seem a little different to what you've heard from the TV show. I honestly thought it was 'light source', but if the book says 'light sauce'...**

* * *

_Crimpity, crimpity, now, now  
Crimpity, crimpity, ask me how  
__Crimpity, crimpity, humble pie  
__Crimpity, crimpity  
__Boing, ding, bong, bong ting  
__Crimpity, crimpity ping pong  
__Sugar man, light sauce,  
__Why did you come to me?  
__Put me in a coma, woke up in the future  
R__obot man can you help me find my way?  
__I can't understand the things you say.  
__Tube mouse I love you so,  
__I took you from the underground and brought you home.  
__I put you in my jacket pocket, took you to the meeting.  
__Put you in my jacket pocket, took you to the meeting.  
__Put you in my jacket pocket,  
__Put you in my jacket pocket,  
__Put you in my jacket,  
__Put you in my jacket,  
__Jean-Claude Jaquetie, with his jacket on!  
__Jean-Claude Jaquetie, with his jacket off!  
__Jacket on, jacket off!  
__Jacket on, jacket off!  
__Ooh, ooh, ooh, I did a twisty!  
__Ooh, ooh, ooh, a tiny twisty!  
__Crimpity, crimpity, now, now  
__Crimpity, crimpity, ask me how  
__Crimpity, crimpity, you will pay,  
__Crimpity, crimpity, out my way.  
__Boing, ding, bong, bong ting  
__Crimpity, crimpity, fuck you!_

* * *

Howard and Vince stare at each other for a moment, confusion on their faces. "What the hell do we say about this one?" Howard hisses.

Vince pauses for a moment, thinking, and then he smiles. "Got it," he whispers back.

* * *

Vince was annoyed. _Really_ annoyed. The problem at hand was one that would ruin everything if he chose incorrectly. He was already greatly confused by a dream that involved robots, men made of sugar covered in some sort of equally sweet sauce, and people in comas, so he really didn't need the added stress of this crisis.

Which jacket should he wear?

He could hear Howard shouting from the main room of the Nabootique, but he couldn't bring himself to hurry up his decision. After all, only one had pockets, which would be able to carry Vince's new mouse friend, but the other went better with his outfit. Gnawing his lip with uncertainty, he called, "Be there in a minute!" to his friend, then turned to the little grey rodent. "You'll have to sit on my shoulder. I can't wear that jacket!"

The mouse fixed beady black eyes on him and sat up on its haunches. All it did was stare at Vince, but he got the message loud and clear: 'I want a pocket, bitch'. Poor Vince didn't need to speak mouse to understand that. And, because he was a kindhearted young man, Vince picked up the jacket with pockets, a sulky look on his face.

"Do I have to?" he whined.

The mouse nodded.

Sighing, Vince slipped his arms into the sleeves and gently placed his friend in the pocket; he felt the mouse curl up in a ball against his leg, and a small smile touched his lips.

When Howard asked him why he took so long, Vince merely shook his head and said, "Don't ask."

* * *

Howard gives Vince an appreciative look. "Well, I can't blame you for trying… that was a hard one to make up a story for."

Vince nods in agreement. "Yeah, I honestly can't remember what the story was behind that crimp…"

"I don't think there was one. It was Naboo who came up with the idea of the Four Way Crimp in the first place…"

At the back of the room, the shaman smiles innocently.


	7. Bouncy Castle Crimp

**Author's note: Gasp! What is this? Two updates in one day? Well, what can I say? I'm feeling creative.**

* * *

_Bouncy, bouncy  
__Ooh, such a good time!  
__Bouncy, bouncy  
__Shoes all in a line!  
__Bouncy, bouncy, everybody!  
__Somersault, somersault, summertime  
__Everybody sing along!  
__Bouncy, bouncy  
__Ooh such a good time!  
__Bouncy, bouncy,  
__White socks, slippin' down!  
Bouncy, bouncy  
Stilettos are a no-no!  
__Bouncy, bouncy ooh!  
__Bouncy, bouncy ooh!  
__Every time I bounce, I feel I touch the sky!_

* * *

A seven year old Vince gave his best friend the puppy dog eyes, trying to persuade him to come out from behind a tree. Tiny shrew eyes peered around the trunk to stare at the object of his fear, and the joyful cries of children that frightened him away.

The bouncy castle at Vince's birthday party.

None of the others had noticed Howard's absence, but Vince had, so he'd made his excuses and followed the directions the birds gave him. He now pleaded with Howard in an attempt to get him to go back to the party with him, but he wouldn't have it.

"They don't like me, Vince, I know it… They don't want me here…" he whimpered. "After what happened at my birthday party with the bouncy castle, they won't want to see me…"

"Don't be stupid! _I _want you there!" Vince stamped his foot childishly. "Come back, Howard, please. It won't be the same without you there."

"But-"

"No buts!" he growled. Looking back, Vince could say that that was the moment when he was the most mature in his entire life. "Don't be so scared. They won't hurt you. It's my party, after all."

"Oh, alright," Howard sighed, taking Vince's outstretched hand. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

The other children did look at Howard curiously as he and Vince approached the bouncy castle, but they didn't say anything and neither did the odd pair. Instead, Vince coaxed his friend onto the bouncy castle, and began to jump. He let loose peals of laughter as he toppled over onto his side. "Join in, Howard!" he shouted, still sniggering.

By now the other children had clambered onto the bouncy castle as well, and they tumbled all over the place, almost obscuring Howard's view of Vince. He stayed still, trying to keep his balance with a terrified look on his face. Sighing with annoyance, Vince grabbed hold of Howard's ankles and pulled him over.

Little Howard yelped in surprise and landed on his backside, but soon flew back onto his feet again. His cries turned into giggles, and his giggles into laughs, until both he and Vince struggled to stay upright because they were too busy clutching their sides to pull themselves to their feet. Howard soon forgot his worries, as he was too busy seeing how far across the floor of the bouncy castle he could get in one leap.


	8. Ice Cream Crimp

**Author's note: I was going to do the Honey Monster crimp as well, but... I couldn't really think of a story long enough for it. So this is the last crimp, and the next chapter will be the last. I'm going to try and write it today, because I want to get the next chapter of _Cross My Heart_ up, and I have another fic in mind.**

* * *

_Lolly stick, lolly stick, ooh!  
__Lolly stick, lolly stick, ooh!  
__Here come Mr. Fab Man,  
__With his speckled brow!  
__Here come Mr. Fab Man,  
__With his inner cream!  
__Ice cream headache in the hot of the sun,  
__Ooh, ooh, ooh, the Magnum Monk!  
__Solero for me and Mini Milk for Tiny Tim's hand,  
__Ooh, ooh, ooh, the Magnum Monk!  
__Nanny Pound in your shorts,  
__Running for the whippy chance  
__Ever receding with the chime times…  
__The ice cream times!  
__Ooh, drippin' on your wrist!_

* * *

Childish as ever, when Vince heard the chimes of the ice cream truck, he leaped off of the sofa and bolted down into the Nabootique. Howard looked up from his book on the history of jazz with a confused expression that only vanished when he, too, heard the familiar bells. Sighing, he got to his feet and followed his friend.

Vince was already out into the street, looking back and forth frantically. He chose a direction at random and set off at a run. Howard simply stood in the doorway of the Nabootique and watched the King of the Mods sprint for ice cream. He guessed Vince must've been desperate if he was _running_.

He heard quiet sniggering above him, and he looked up to see Naboo and Bollo leaning out of the window, watching Vince's back. When Naboo noticed Howard standing below him, he smiled innocently.

"What've you done?" Howard sighed.

"Just a simple spell. There's no ice cream truck."

"Why?"

"We were bored. Considering we're the ones who save your arses all the time, you can afford to let us have this little joke." And without another word, the tiny shaman disappeared from view. Bollo simply grunted with laughter and followed his master when there was a shout of, "Bollo, can you put the tea on?"

Howard shook his head and waited for Vince to return, knowing he'd look disappointed. He was surprised, however, to see his friend come back with an ice cream in each hand, appearing rather proud of himself. He handed one to Howard with a smile.

"But… Naboo just used a spell. It was a trick!"

"What are you talkin' about? There was a truck around the corner," Vince explained. "I'll admit, the guy was a bit weird, but still. Good ice cream."

"Weird how?"

"He had a green face and a Polo for an eye!" He laughed.

"… Vince…"

"Yeah?"

"That was the Hitcher… maybe we shouldn't eat these ice creams…"

Vince scowled. "I wasted my money on these! _And_ I ran to get them!"

Howard rolled his eyes. "Fine, but don't blame me when you get sick because of something he did to them."

He turned to go back inside, but he stopped when he heard Vince say his name hesitantly. "Howard…"

"Yes?"

"Can I have yours if you're not going to eat it?"

Howard sighed exasperatedly, but smiled at Vince. "Alright."

Vince smiled brightly at him.


	9. Epilogue

**Author's note: Well, here we are. This is the first multichapter fic I've completed... :D I hope you enjoyed it; I certainly did.**

* * *

As Vince and Howard finish their last story, the crowd of teenagers stand and applaud them happily; a few of them even whistle. At a gesture from Howard, Naboo and Bollo climb onto the stage to join them. "These two have been part of many of our tales," Howard explains, "and Naboo even helped with the Four Way Crimp."

"While probably high," Vince mutters, earning an elbow from Howard.

"That's beside the point," the jazz maverick hisses. "Thank you!" he shouts to the crowd.

Of course, they immediately go silent.

* * *

Vince, Howard, Naboo and Bollo leave once some of the teenagers have asked questions which the four of them really want to forget – some of them are ridiculous, like "What's a crimp?" – and head home.

As the front door shuts behind the four of them, Bollo grunts, "Good speech. You tell good stories."

"Thanks," Howard replies.

"Was talkin' to Vince," the gorilla growls. Howard frowns, but Vince remains as bubbly as ever, giving Bollo a happy, "Cheers!"

"Maybe you can tell us about some other crimps sometime," Naboo adds.

"Maybe," Howard agrees, "but that's most of them. The others really are just complete nonsense, or they speak for themselves, like the Honey Monster Crimp."

"Or maybe you could tell us about Xooberon." Vince gives Naboo an excited look, reminding him of a puppy, and the shaman offers a rare smile with a shrug.

"Possibly. Not now, though. I don't remember Xooberon being very exciting… It was boring compared to what happens here on Earth."

"It'll be nice to find out about it anyway," Howard says. He pauses to yawn, then sighs, "Well, I'm off to bed. I'm exhausted. Crimping really makes you tired."

"Same here," Vince calls, already heading towards his room. "Night!"

Bollo makes his excuses as well, leaving Naboo on his own in the living room. The shaman takes a seat on the sofa, settles his feet on the coffee table, and relaxes. He allows a second smile to appear on his face. _Finally. Some quiet. Doesn't happen often. _The flat is silent and peaceful.

But then Naboo murmurs the lyrics to his favourite of the crimps.

_"Bouncy, bouncy, ooh such a good time…"_


End file.
